


Role Reversal I

by ModernWizard



Series: The Happy Famverse [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Consensual Kink, F/M, Gen, Humor, I mean sort of, If you're going to send me spam at least get the honorific right!, Jodie Whittaker is The Master (Doctor Who), Kinky Doctor, Kinky Master, Mr. The Master, No actual sex, Other, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Sacha Dhawan is the Doctor (Doctor Who), Sexual Humor, The Master is playing the Doctor, The Master nitpicks grammar, Thirteen is playing the Master, WTF?!, When was I last a Mr.?, for fun, keynote address at the Interdimensional Vaudevillainy Society, the theme is Effective Long-Term Domination of Your Nemesis, third-rate villain organizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernWizard/pseuds/ModernWizard
Summary: The Doctor is so bored that she broke the coffee table with her unicycle. The Master is so frustrated that he's yelling at his dolls. Then the mail arrives, bearing with it an opportunity to swap roles and have some fun. Sort of a Whittaker Master/Dhawan Doctor situation in that Thirteen is playing the Master and the Master is playing the Doctor.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: The Happy Famverse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694899
Kudos: 22





	Role Reversal I

_ [INT. THE DOCTOR’S TARDIS living room. THE DOCTOR is, in a word, restless. She peeks into three books, reads two pages of each, and then abandons them. She messes around with a Rubik’s cube for a minute before growling and starting to remove the colored stickers on the tiles so that she can manually rearrange them. She opens up a word search book with a pen in hand. After looking at the block of letters from several different angles, she carefully circles the entire block and discards the book. Her unicycling practice lasts five seconds until she collides with the recliner. She attempts a handstand and overbalances, falling onto her back. She plunks down on the couch, pulling things from under the cushions, including a chainsaw, a single sparkly blue pump, a jar of smelling salts, a bottle of patent medicine, and a very annoyed-looking salamander, which she quickly puts back.] _

THE DOCTOR: Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’m boooooooooooooooooooooored!!!!  _ [She slouches so deeply that she slides down the couch, off the seat, and onto the floor.] _

_ [THE MASTER is, in a word, focused. He sits at a work table before what looks like a miniature movie set, complete with a couch, a rug beneath it, and bright umbrella lights suffusing the small scene with light. There are a few sets of small plastic storage drawers with labels like CASUAL TROUSERS, FORMAL TROUSERS, SHORT TROUSERS, SHORTS, and other items of clothing on them. There’s also a camera on a tripod. He has a highly articulated doll in hand, about 30 centimeters high, that strongly resembles THE DOCTOR. He’s dressing it — or at least trying to — with clothes from the plastic drawers.] _

THE MASTER  _ [to THE DOCTOR with barely a glance]: _ Wow! Did you just liquefy out of sheer ennui? Fascinating.  _ [Addressing the doll.]  _ I said — keep your trousers on! Why the fuck can’t you keep your trousers on?! I didn’t spend all that time hand sewing that shit for you to just go, ‘Nope! Fuck this!’ You stubborn twit!

THE DOCTOR: Where’s Graham?

THE MASTER: Taking a cooking class. ‘The Glorious History of British Cuisine’ or something equally ridiculous. I said, ‘I can save you lots of money and summarize the glorious history of British cuisine in five easy steps.’ He said, ‘Oh yeah, what are they?’ I said, ‘One: Colonize significant portions of the Eastern Hemisphere where people are doing interesting, creative things with spices. Two: Throw a fit about because the foreigners cook better than you do, and plot revenge. Three: Establish an economic monopoly on eastern Asian spices coming into western Europe. Four: Develop a national cuisine completely lacking in flavor, texture, or originality. There! That’ll show ‘em. Five: Profit.’ He told me I was kind of a wet blanket. I said he should read about the political ramifications of cinnamon. He said he just wanted to learn how to make...frog in a log? Bug on a rug? Oh! Yeah! Toad in the hole.  _ [Meets THE DOCTOR’S eyes, holding up finger sententiously as if delivering the moral of the story.]  _ And that, love, is just another example of how people can’t stand it when you speak truth to power.

THE DOCTOR: That was also an example of you being mean just because you could.

THE MASTER: It is! I’m the Master of Multitasking!  _ [To the doll.] _ Ohhhhhhh! Well,  _ that’s _ why your trousers aren’t staying up. You’re not wearing braces. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t wearing braces? You could have saved me all this trouble. Seriously! Communication is a two-way street, you know! It doesn’t do anyone any good when you give me the silent treatment. Maybe we need to go back in couple’s therapy...

THE DOCTOR: Couple’s therapy? Are you serious? The last therapist went into an extra intensive day treatment program after you interviewed them over the phone for fifteen minutes. You’re not going anywhere near a therapist — for the therapist’s sake! Oh. Wait. You weren’t talking to me. You were talking to that me. In that case, can’t you just customize a therapist doll and make it say whatever you want?  _ [Beat.] _ What about Ryan?

THE MASTER _[shaking head]:_ Are _you_ serious? The Ryan doll would not make a good couple’s thera — oh. Ohhhhhhhhhh. You mean full-size Ryan and what he’s up to. Hah hah, sorry. Sorry. I knew that. Oh, probably basketball. Ah! No! I know. Pretty sure he’s fucking around with Nychthemeron. _[To the doll, while pulling several tiny pairs of braces, made out of narrow ribbon, from plastic drawers.]_ Hmmmm, now, let’s see — which would you like best? Hah! AH HAH HAH HAH HAH! _[Slaps forehead.]_ Why am I even asking? It’s a known fact that you have no taste whatsoever. I mean — what sort of person thinks _yellow_ is a perfectly good accent for _navy blue?_ _[Note that THE DOCTOR currently wears yellow braces to hold up her navy blue trousers.]_ I’m going with purple. Noooo...magenta? No, purple. Oooooh, electric green tartan! No, as a matter of fact, I don’t care what _you_ want. Shut up.

THE DOCTOR: Ryan?! Ryan from  _ my _ fam?! He’s doing  _ what _ with your TARDIS?

THE MASTER  _ [going with electric green tartan braces] _ : Newton’s Fifth Law.

THE DOCTOR: Newton’s...Fifth…? Oh. Yeah. Right. ‘If something exists in the universe, someone has tried to fuck it. If it doesn’t exist, someone has created art about fucking it.’ Huh. Well. Okay. Guess I just never noticed that he had a thing for sentient spaceships before.

THE MASTER: Yeah, you’re not that great on picking up the obvious. How long did it take you to realize that Yaz and I had hopeless crushes on you?  _ [To the doll.] _ Okay — shoes. Shoes shoes shoes…  _ Why are you only wearing one boot?!! Why do you do this to me?!! _

THE DOCTOR: Uh...six months and a kiwi-banana cream tart. I think. Or was it the venison steaks? —Uh, I’m wearing both boots. 

THE MASTER: Tart. And that was one of Graham’s most delicious efforts. Why’d you have to go and stick your face in it?! —And not you!  _ [Glares at doll.] _ You!! Why do you do this to me??!! 

THE DOCTOR: You threw it at me when you said I was so oblivious that I wouldn’t realize someone’s infatuation if it smacked me in the head!

THE MASTER  _ [to doll]: _ I didn’t throw your boot anywhere! You must have kicked it off when I wasn’t looking!  _ [To the Doctor.]  _ At least the tart wasn’t totally ruined after it connected with your forehead.

THE DOCTOR: You licked it off my face!

THE MASTER: So I’m frugal. Don’t like food waste. Besides, you enjoyed it.  _ [To doll.] _ Don’t try to deny it, you little sadist. You totally enjoy hiding your clothes because you know it pisses me off.  _ [Looks under doll furniture.] _

THE DOCTOR: Okay, but you have to admit that sticking your tongue up my nose was not strictly necessary.

THE MASTER: Excuse my imprecision! I wasn’t exactly shooting for your nasal passages, but my aim was slightly compromised by the amount of kiwi filling in the way.  _ [To doll.] _ This!!  _ [Holds up missing boot.]  _ Do you know where I found this? Under the couch!  _ Under the couch! _

THE DOCTOR: I’m surprised you did something so germy. Obviously my unbearable hotness short-circuited your brain.

THE MASTER: You’re definitely unbearable. Not sure about the hotness. Depends on how high your fever is. Also the way you looked had nothing to do with the way I licked. It was all about the kiwi.

THE DOCTOR: Yeah...yeah...yeah...well, you know what? The first time I held your hand had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that you’d just picked yourself off the ground. Wanted to see if you had any traces of that yummy, yummy 1899 Waterloo left on your fingers.

THE MASTER: Why am I involved in someone who eats dirt? Why? Why why why why?!!

THE DOCTOR: So Ryan and Nychthemeron…?

THE MASTER: Oh no. No no no no. I was just messing with ya. Not  _ that _ kind of fucking around. You know how Nychthemeron is interested in steampunk? Or, more precisely, what she  _ thinks  _ is steampunk, but which is actually frilly underwear and pseudo-Victorian corsetry, dyed brown and with gears for accents? Well, now she wants to take her fashion disasters out of the house and into public. I mean — she wants to pretend she’s a human and dress up like that and go to events where other people are wearing equally shuddersome things. Now, of course,  _ I’m _ certainly not going to compromise my aesthetic and accompany her, so she got Ryan to go with her. As a dance partner or whatever? Not sure. Anyway, the kid can really rock a standing collar, but I dunno how Nychthemeron’s going to get out of the house when she  _ is _ the house. Maybe she’ll just shrink the house part and put it in her reticule or something.

THE DOCTOR: And Grace — what’s she up to? Oh yeah, volunteering. Staffing a fundraiser for a new homeless shelter. She’s a powerhouse! Wow! I wanna be as energetic as she is when  _ I _ grow up! She does more in a day than I do in five minutes.

THE MASTER: Yes, that’s generally the way it works. _[Puts doll in a sitting position.]_ Okay, sit. _[Doll falls over. THE MASTER tries again with more force.]_ Sit!! _[Doll falls over. THE MASTER_ _practically slams it onto the couch.]_ Stay! Just...stay! Why is it so hard for you to just — ? _[Doll falls over.]_ I didn’t say, ‘Roll over and play dead!’ Bad Doctor! Very bad Doctor! No treat! GRARRRGH! _[Shakes head, vibrates angrily.]_

THE DOCTOR: What? Just because I cheated at Rubik’s cube and broke the coffee table with my unicycle doesn’t mean that I’m bad  _ per se.  _ You’re just confusing your personal dislike of something with moral judgment. Oh snap! Put  _ that  _ in your hat and smoke it.  _ [Finger guns.]  _ Also I don’t want any treats. I had half my weight in pickled peppers two hours ago, and I think my burps are gonna hurt for days.  _ [Burps experimentally.] _ Oooh. Yeah. Kinda burns. 

THE MASTER: Okay, good, because you’re not getting any.  _ [To doll.] _ Okay. Fine. Clearly I’ll just have to work within the constraints you’re providing because you’re being  _ a complete ass. [Arranges doll supine in miniature set.] _

THE DOCTOR  _ [suppressing a burp]:  _ And Yaz is looking for ‘mushroom hunting gear,’ whatever that is. Hey, wait a minute. You’re not taking her to the feral mushrooms of Gaviotis, are you?!

THE MASTER  _ [with a violent shudder] _ : Fuck no! No! No!  _ NO!!!! _ Don’t remind me! The one time I went there, they jumped me at the trailhead, and I was sneezing spores for two weeks after. Those things are sneaky little bastards. Well, sneaky  _ big _ bastards.

THE DOCTOR  _ approaching THE MASTER and hanging off his shoulder] _ : And what are you doing? Anything interesting?

THE MASTER: Behold! My masterpiece! I call it ‘Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’m Boooooooooooooooooored.’

_ [WIth a grand gesture, THE MASTER steps back from the miniature set. The doll lies with torso on the rug, left arm flung over face, right arm stretched out straight to the side, and splayed legs still resting on the couch. He’s got the body language down.] _

THE DOCTOR  _ [scrunching nose]: _ Do I really look like  _ that?! _

THE MASTER  _ [looking comparatively between the two DOCTORS] _ : Well, you’re slightly larger. Not by much, but slightly.

THE DOCTOR  _ [jumping up in his face] _ : Who you callin’ short, shorty?!

THE MASTER: Also there’s a certain petulance to your prostration that, try as I might, I can’t duplicate with inanimate materials — probably because they don’t whine — but yeah, that’s what you look like. Ah! Oooh!  _ [Snaps as he gets an idea.]  _ Maybe I could put a motion-activated sound chip in it. Every time someone walks by, it slumps further and goes, ‘Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii’m booooooooooooooooored.’ Yes yes yes, perfect!

THE DOCTOR: Should I be bothered that you have a doll of me? Because I think I’m bothered. Just a little.

THE MASTER: Why? Everyone should have a little Doctor in their life. Fortunately, I have several! The dolls and the  _ real _ little one.  _ [Leans elbow on THE DOCTOR’S head.] _

THE DOCTOR _[flipping him to the ground and putting her foot on his chest]:_ _What_ did you just say? _[Scrunches nose fiercely, but fails to look menacing.]_

THE MASTER  _ [wind knocked out of him]: _ Wheeee! Hwoof. Oi! If your boots aren’t clean, I don’t want them anywhere near my shirt.

THE DOCTOR  _ [balancing on left boot, sticking right sole in THE MASTER’S face]: _ See? They’re clean! Clean as...uh...a really clean thing!

THE MASTER  _ [grabbing THE DOCTOR’S ankle and glaring into her sole] _ : Gravel! Cat hair! Two flavors of bubble gum! Fendroscovian thixotrope! And — what the hell?! How did  _ my _ laser screwdriver get caught in  _ your _ treads?!  _ [Yanks it out.] _

THE DOCTOR  _ [shrugging]: _ They’re bigger on the inside?

THE MASTER: I thought that was just your TARDIS. And your pockets. And my closet. And the vacuum in Nigel Farrage’s head. Whatever.  _ [Thrusts THE DOCTOR’S leg away.]  _ Come back and step on me  _ after _ you’ve excavated and disinfected your revolting footwear.

THE DOCTOR  _ [perking up with hand to ear]: _ Ooooooh!  _ [Bounds away.] _

THE MASTER  _ [picking himself up, scratching his head]: _ Did you just...do what I told you?! Without wailing, gnashing your teeth, or rending your garments? Huh. Wow. Shit! I should have recorded that for posterity.  _ [Calling off screen.] _ Hey, love, do you mind re-enacting what you —?

THE DOCTOR  _ [leaping back into the room, waving an envelope]: _ Look! Mail! Actual real snail mail.  _ [Reads envelope.] _ ‘Intergalactic Gastropods, LLC. Fastest mollusks in the Milky Way. Guaranteed on-slime delivery!’ Huh. I wonder if they do slugs too…

THE MASTER: Who’s it from?

THE DOCTOR: Ummmm… The Interdimensional Vaudevillainy Society. Valquist Appenine, secretary. Sound familiar?

THE MASTER: Ugh! The IVS! Do you know how hard it is to get off their mailing list? You have to kill the messenger twice, bomb their secret base, and then poison a mailroom worker. I’m not keen on treating minimum-wage earners like they’re expendable, so I just cut to the chase — literally. The previous secretary was Chase Vepps, so I gave them a little blade-based encouragement to delete my name. But now they’re  _ still _ clogging up my mailbox?! What gives? Do I have to actually  _ kill _ the secretary or something?

THE DOCTOR: It’s addressed to  _ me, _ you doofus, not you.  _ [Sniffs paper.] _ Ooooh, nice stationery. Smells like… Smells like tahini! No….toasted sesame seeds.  _ [Eats some paper.] _ Hey —  _ tastes _ like sesame seeds too!

THE MASTER: Doctor! Spit it out!

THE DOCTOR: What? Why? There’s plenty to go around. You want some?

THE MASTER: Spit it out!! It’s a literal poison pen letter! It’s lethal!

THE DOCTOR: Whaaaaaat?!?!?!  _ [Drops letter and hawks up spitball, which flies across room and sticks to wall.] _ Oh. Huh. Oh yeah, now that you mention it, it  _ does _ have the flavor of guaritimide. But!  _ [Sticks finger in the air.] _ I didn’t swallow any, so I’m sure not going to experience digestive flamboyance, pancreatic conniptions, and total lymphatic loss. At least I don’t think so. Should probably take an antidote, just in case.  _ [Digs through coat pockets. Pulls out a toaster, a yoyo, a small potted succulent, a set of non-sonic screwdrivers, a gas mask, and a shopping trolley before finding an orange spray bottle. Squirts once up each nostril.] _ Ahhhh. So much better.

_ [While THE DOCTOR doses herself, THE MASTER retrieves the letter using some tweezers from his doll-related supplies. Holding the letter by the very corner at arm’s length, he exits. From off screen come the sounds of spraying, scrubbing, and air drying, followed by the distinctive  _ whumph _ of something suddenly igniting.] _

_ [THE MASTER returns as THE DOCTOR puts all the paraphernalia, including the shopping cart, back into her coat. His hair is windblown and one shirt cuff singed, but the letter is apparently sterilized. Holding it close to his nose, he scans it while striding in.] _

THE MASTER: You okay there, Doctor?

THE DOCTOR: Yup! Boy, am I glad I always keep emergency supplies in my coat.

THE MASTER: I understand the emergency antidote, succulent, and screwdrivers, but a shopping trolley?!

THE DOCTOR: Because sometimes you just  _ have _ to take a flying leap and ride one down an aisle, you know?

THE MASTER  _ [nodding sagely]: _ Ah yes. True, true. Also, by the way, love, unless you’ve changed names recently, this was addressed to  _ me, _ not you.  _ [Points to envelope, which is clearly addressed to Mr. The Master.] _ What the fuck? Since when am I a Mr.? That was two lives ago. Honestly! If you’re gonna spam me, you stupid organization, you could at least use the right honorific. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It’s disgraceful.  _ [Whips out red felt pen from pocket, circles ‘Mr.,’ and writes, ‘WRONG HONORIFIC!!!!!!!’] _

THE DOCTOR: But it came to my house. If it’s to you, why did it come to my house?

THE MASTER  _ [scribbling furiously]: _ Comma splices, extra apostrophes, dubious kerning… I don’t know which is worse here: the typography or the grammar.  _ [Reads aloud, pausing to comment.] _ “Dear The,...” My name is  _ not _ a definite article! “Congratulations on your definitive victory over your long-time nemeses…” Wait. I have more than one? I thought it was just you. Why did they pluralize nemesis? I only have one! “‘The Doctor.’” They put your name in quotes. Why did they put your name in quotes? Is it an alias or something? What is  _ wrong _ with these people? And how did I get back on their mailing list at  _ your _ house?!

THE DOCTOR: Anything interesting in there besides typos?

THE MASTER: Blah blah blah…annual meeting… Keynote speaker… The theme is… The theme is _what?!_ _[His eyes double in size as he stares.]_ Did they really just say that? Yeah. Wow. They really just said that. BWAH HAH HAH HAH HAH! Huh...and without any apparent indication that they mean it in anything but the traditional mainstream sense.

THE DOCTOR: You are having way too much fun with a piece of spam mail. What’s it say?

THE MASTER: Oh, they invited me to be the keynote speaker at their annual meeting on account of my superlative achievements in kicking your ass. No, actually, the theme is — and I’m quoting! I did not make this up — ‘Effective  _ [snicker] _ Long-Term Domination  _ [fit of helpless laughter]  _ of Your Nemesis.’

THE DOCTOR: Really? The IVS wants you to talk about kinky stuff? I thought they were really dull and old-school. You know — they’re so fixated on mustache twirling that you have to put on a fake one for the meeting if you don’t have a real one. Wasn’t there that debate a few years back about whether tying people to railroad tracks had any erotic tension to it?

THE MASTER: Oh yeah, and they decided categorically that there wasn’t. It was all purely theatrical sadism all the way. What dumbasses! Even accounting for various shades of asexuality and the fact that not everyone gets off on tying people to railroad tracks — 

THE DOCTOR: — Newton’s Fifth Law. You have to factor in Newton’s Fifth Law.

THE MASTER: Exactly! Newton’s Fifth. You just can’t...deny the laws of pornophysics! It’s absurd.

THE DOCTOR: Yeah...but the important question is — are they feeding you, paying you, putting you up in posh digs, that sort of thing? The IVS, I mean.

THE MASTER: Who cares? They’re a third-rate organization. No sense of humor. No progressive mindset. Not worth my time.  _ [Drops letter, returns to table, adjusts position of doll.] _

_ [THE DOCTOR picks up the letter and reads it. As she does so, her eyebrows mount, while her eyes form crescent shapes. Her mouth opens wider and wider into a rather disturbing grin. She is clearly plotting something. ] _

THE DOCTOR  _ [in devious, yet also somehow ominous, tones]: _ Suddenly...I’m not so bored after all!

THE MASTER  _ [not paying attention] _ : Marvelous. Did you develop some new hobbies in the past five seconds?

THE DOCTOR  _ [slapping the letter down on table in front of him]: _ Pack your bags, Master! We’re going to — uh — um — where is this thing held?  _ [Scans letter, can’t find info, slaps letter down again.] _ We’re going to wherever this thing is held!!

THE MASTER  _ [lifting his head]: _ Well well well, what have we here? It’s a bored Doctor and a positively fiendish smirk! If my calculations are correct, this equation requires only an equally game Master as a catalyst, causing a chain reaction that will result in uncontrollable  _ shenanigans  _ and possibly even  _ hijinks  _ of unprecedented proportions!  _ [Eyebrow boink.] _ Do tell!

THE DOCTOR: These guys haven’t seen us in years. They know that we’ve regenerated, but they have no clue who we are. So  _ I’ll _ be the Master, and  _ you _ be the Doctor!

THE MASTER  _ [going rigid] _ :  _ ABSOLUTELY NOT. I FUCKING HATE PERCEPTION FILTERS. _

THE DOCTOR: No! Don’t worry. This doesn’t require any of that! You just do the blue and rainbows and yellow braces, and I’ll do the purple and tartan and spaghetti shoelaces. Then you just play me, and I’ll play you.

THE MASTER  _ [stroking beard slowly] _ : Ooooooh. Yessssss. I see. Not a shapeshift so much as a...style swap.

THE DOCTOR: Personality swap too, obviously.

THE MASTER: Obviously. Oooh! Oooh!  _ [Hops on tiptoes, flaps hands.]  _ And...I just remembered...they have no clue about my immediately previous regeneration, so  _ you, _ love, have the signal joy and honor of blowing their tiny little conservative minds when you show up as Mr. The.

THE DOCTOR  _ [rubbing hands together and cackling]: _ MWAH HAH HAH HAH! Oh yesssssssss!

THE MASTER  _ [flinging back head and cackling]: _ BWAH HAH HAH HAH! I can’t wait!

THE DOCTOR: My sinister laugh is better than yours. AH HAH HAH HAH!

THE MASTER: Yours can’t compare to mine. BAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HA — ow! Fuck!  _ [Claps hand to abdomen.]  _ I think I just dislocated something.


End file.
